That's What We Do
by MusketeerAdventure
Summary: Summary: As Clay asserts himself beyond Bravo Team; Jason finds the fortitude to move past painful memories and let him go.


That's What We Do

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: As Clay asserts himself beyond Bravo Team; Jason finds the fortitude to move past painful memories and let him go.

* * *

Clay was beyond exhausted as he gazed out among this small group of terrified humanity. They were like ghosts…silent, distant and remote. All of them – wordlessly staring out to some far off point where they once lived, loved, worked and raised families. That far off place of home – now lost to them.

For now they lived in a new place, one of limbo and uncertainty.

The only signs of real connection he noticed, were of mothers clinging protectively to their children; as they themselves buried small faces in the folds of skirts…shivering with shock in the stifling heat. Walking among them, Clay felt as if he were traversing on a high wire…unsettled, precarious and daunting.

He only wished to help. But these women hid from him and the other interpreters behind a solid barrier of silence. Eyes down, bodies submissive, mouths clenched tight. Fearful apparitions, afraid to speak or to move without permission less they be punished severely. Their trauma was heavy and oppressive.

"They've been through hell." Vanessa voiced wearily as she moved carefully among them – consoling, comforting and pleading for information. All he could do was nod in agreement. Somehow his English lost under the weight of speaking a foreign language for days on end.

Their attempts to uncover more information perhaps find more of Mazari's contacts, pinpoint drop off points, and safe houses; was so far unsuccessful.

Weary and spent, Clay sat down heavily on a nearby bench and regarded the nearly one hundred women and children; now housed in the hangar area. Clay shook his head in disbelief. Just days ago in this very spot, General Hakan spouted words of false praise, loudly regaling the capture of drug lords and the arduous pursuit of bringing down the formidable drug trade.

He rubbed tiredly at his face, attempting to stave off the need to eat, to sleep to just relax for an hour. As a witness to such distress, he could not stop and rest. When he tried, these haunted faces just invaded the darkness and disrupted any semblance of sleep he could eek out.

Ray had tried to talk him into joining the team for a break – a round of celebratory beer and whiskey at the Tikki Bar; but he wasn't in the mood. He didn't feel victorious. Instead he spent the past few days and nights helping Vanessa, Nabi and the small crew of interpreters question these frightened women; trying to get intel – hoping that some bit of information could help them rescue more.

Clutching Razor's talisman hanging from his neck, he thought of the young soldier – with only a year's worth of service under his belt who lost his life to betrayal helping to free these families; and felt a sort of anger bubble up to the surface. They couldn't just leave it like this.

Wasn't this why he was here? To win this war – fight terrorism; help the people here in this room, who lived under the thumb of oppression?

Earn it. That's what Boss had said. "Earn it – cause that's what we do."

Nabi came to sit next to him; so he moved over to give the man more room. Studying him closely, he could see his own weariness staring back at him. Nabi looked shattered….his anger tempered by his own lack of sleep.

Shoulders bumping lightly, together they looked out over the hangar of temporary beds; medical personnel; and food detail – disoriented captives, now free…..but not – housed one more place that was not their home.

For all of the activity taking place here – the lack of children's voices; mother's words of comfort; weeping in pain or joy, left the space feeling empty. Empty of hope.

"We must do more." Nabi blurted out – his voice echoing through the spacious hangar.

Clay nodded, and with determination, answered back, "Yes."

And then, as if to add an exclamation point to such a declaration, Ellis suddenly stood in front of them, a small smile on her face. "Permaz Hakan has given us some information" she announced. "We know where to strike at these Human Traffickers next."

* * *

"Hell no, you're not going!" Jason countered, but Clay kept moving – packing his gear as fast as he could. If he slowed down even a little; he knew Boss would probably talk him out of this – or if push came to shove – put him in lock up.

"Do you hear me Spenser? Stop doing what you're doing; and that's an order."

Clay stayed his frantic packing, took a deep breath and turned slowly to face his Master Chief. He could hear the warning in the man's voice and took it seriously. Ray, Sonny and the rest of the team looked on warily; as Cerberus' tail thumped the floor with anxiety.

Clay raised an eyebrow in consternation. He was at a loss.

He couldn't understand where Boss' attitude was coming from. He had volunteered for this mission. This is what he wanted, no … needed to do. Permaz Hakan had relayed to them the trafficker's route; where the next pick up point would be.

The upcoming transfers would be in less than two days' time. He would work alongside the command of Nabi and the Afghan Special Forces…help bring more women and children to safety. This was why he was here.

"I volunteered Boss." Clay explained once again – trying to keep his tone even. "You can't order me to stay. And it's not just me. Vanessa has volunteered; a few guys from Alfa and some Army too."

Clay saw something dangerous shift on Hayes' face – so turned away quickly to finish packing – only to be grabbed by the front of his collar and turned forcibly to face the one man he most admired, looked up to and wanted to emulate.

He stood still within the man's grasp – hands down, non-threatening; but eyes a blaze with purpose. He knew Boss' temper. Had felt this level of intensity directed at him before, and didn't want to make the moment any worse. He had waited for the last possible minute to inform Hayes for this very reason.

He knew Boss would object – that they all would object…could anticipate Sonny's reluctance to let him up from under his wing. Bravo Team saw him differently than he saw himself. To them, he was the rookie; the newbie… a kid.

Volunteering without Boss' knowledge was a risk – but one he was willing to take. One he hoped everyone would understand.

Wasn't Boss giving everything he had to avenge Steve Porter and Echo Team? Couldn't he see that he felt the same level of commitment about this? He would follow Boss' lead and do the same – give this mission all he had to help secure the safety of these invisibles – women and children who were used, abused and sacrificed in a war not of their choosing.

Boss gripped his collar tighter and stared right into his eyes, down into his soul. So he peered back and tried with all the courage he could muster to convey with every ounce of conviction he had without using words, what he felt and believed…that these people were worth helping.

Certain that if he understood where he was coming from, Boss would let him go with no hard feelings, and without resentment.

Reaching up to hold on to the hands pulling at his collar in a vice like grip, Clay squeezed hard with reassurance, willing the man to let him go. And then suddenly it hit him. Boss wasn't angry because he'd volunteered; done so without telling him. He was worried; and frowned slightly at this revelation and so softly stated, "I'm going to be okay." Then grinned with what he hoped showed some semblance of confidence.

Jason's heart beat hard in his chest as time ticked by. Beyond the knot of fear lying heavy in his stomach, he could feel Ray's hand on his shoulder attempting to cool down the simmering situation. Turning away from Spenser's naïve declaration, he sought out the silent advice of his friend.

He could see that this was what Ray had warned him about…where his obsessive nature would steer him wrong. This was that stupid instant; a point in time that he would be unable to take back if he didn't rein it in.

Unable to break the kid's resolve by force, Jason let out a shaky breath and briefly touched foreheads with the stubborn young man within his grasp. He could see Clay's need to do something; his heart on his sleeve, as big and as bright as a neon sign. But he was hesitant.

What if he let go and this was it? What if he never saw him again beyond this moment?

No, Ray was right. Holding on this tight would get him nowhere. It hadn't saved Nate. Besides, Clay would go with or without his say so. He was just mule headed like that.

So standing back, he let loose, straightened out the wrinkles in the kid's collar and thought about his last moments with Nate – how quick and harsh it was; how it still affected him even now. How it permeated all of his decisions where it concerned Clay.

Studying the kid closely, Jason realized that Clay studied him right back just as intently. "Thanks Boss" he said sincerely, turned away and returned to his packing.

"Two days Spenser" Jason ordered, rubbing at the stubble on his jaw. "Two days, and you'd better come back."

"I will." Clay promised, as Bravo Team noisily descended on him with parting advice and good humor designed to lighten the moment.

* * *

He was there in the Command Center when word came through that the joint operation to capture some of Mazari's contacts; decimate the drop off point and rescue the kidnapped women and children was a success. Along with everyone else in the room, Jason breathed out a sigh of relief.

It had been a long two days.

Two days of anxious waiting to learn of everyone's safety; two days of strained diplomacy with the head of ASF; and two days of selfish worry for Bravo Six. Going out on daily's without him had been a strain.

Jason stood up from his self-assigned seat to shake Ellis' hand and congratulate her on another job well done; and clapped Davis on the back as Blackburn gave a thumbs up to everyone in the room. Everyone was coming home – prisoners; three helos full of women and children; and the joint forces.

There had been a small hiccup during the exfil – rapid gunfire; but no one was reported seriously injured or dead. Within hours the choppers would be landing. It would be good to see the kid, as it had been hard to let him go.

Hard to see him out there without Bravo Team to back him up….to keep an eye on him. For the past two days, Sonny had been giving him the evil eye – in his own way admonishing him for letting the kid spread his wings away from their protective circle. It would be good to see their boy again….just to get Sonny off his case.

So he left the confines of command feeling the weight of worry lift from his shoulders; unbind from around his chest and give him room to breathe freely. Standing near the landing area he waited with hands in pockets; pacing with pent up energy.

Then over time stood and watched as returning choppers touched down, blowing about debris and swirling sand. He watched as women and children spilled hesitantly out from open doors; prisoners being pushed and escorted to buses waiting to take them to holding. He felt his team join him as the joint forces hopped out and moved in their direction.

Only he didn't see Spenser – that usual bounce of enthusiasm; his cocky grin; and confident stride. He only saw Vanessa as she raced to meet them, Nabi on her heels; pulling off her helmet yelling over the whirling blades that, "They're taking Clay off now, and we're heading toward the infirmary."

Suddenly her voice took on a strange, warped quality, as time seemed to slow down; stretch like a rubber band and drift as if beneath water.

Nabi chimed in and all he could make out were individual words that ebbed and flowed in a twisted misshapen contorted mess. He concentrated hard – but could only make out, "Hurt….shot…ribs." Then gave up trying to decipher what the man was going on about and instinctively punched him in the face and watched him go down hard; wiping blood from his lip.

Turning away, he ran toward the chopper as Clay was lifted off on a stretcher held up by four men that were not Bravo Team; that were not his family.

* * *

The rush to the infirmary had been a frantic one. Jason remembered little of the mad dash, except for how still, limp and gray Spenser looked on the gurney – his curls swept away from his forehead, creased and etched in pain.

Seated here now at Spenser's bedside, he rubbed absentmindedly at swollen bruised knuckles, and wondered at his brief loss of sanity. Only coming back to himself after hearing about the final events of the joint mission; and the doctor's assessment that the kid would be okay. This episode of his, sort of reminded him of the time his son had broken his arm falling from his bike, and he had no recollection of driving him to the hospital; sitting through x-rays; and watching the boy get plastered for a cast.

Not long ago, Nabi had left the room; pulled out by Ray to get some air and stretch his legs. He had sat here with Bravo Team waiting for Clay to come around, but so far the kid slept on. So now it was only he that was left to wait him out.

Nabi's account of what happened replayed in his mind over and over. "He saved my life." The man had explained. "He pushed me out of the way; took a bullet for me – at point blank range; right in the chest."

Vigorously rubbing at his face, Jason knew that the vest and protective gear was the only thing between Clay and death. The more agreeable result…. thankfully – only a cracked rib and an extensively bruised torso.

Elbows on knees, he watched Clay intensely and noticed the signs of consciousness returning….rapid breathing; eyes moving beneath closed lids….and so waited. Suddenly, there he was. Eyes wide open – scanning the room; confusion written all over his face.

So he stood, reached out; placed his hand gently on the kid's chest and urged him to, "Breathe slow and easy; slow and easy – you're okay…everyone's okay."

Nodding, Clay followed instructions; relaxed under Boss' heavy, sure hand and matched in sync with the man's slow steady breathing – the mission coming back to him in small increments as his chest burned like it was on fire.

"Nabi?" he asked uncertainly, and winced in pain as a dry cough escaped without his permission.

"He's good. You saved his life." Jason answered and pulled the chair closer in order to sit; then added with a sense of pride, "And the mission was a success."

Clay nodded slowly, then smiled slightly; surprised by the rare offer of praise. And after only moments awake, he felt his body give in to exhaustion; and his eyes shut drowsily on their own accord, pulling him down into sleep.

"That's what we do." he sighed out softly, and drifted away to rest, content that Boss sat nearby, watching his back.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please leave a review to let me know what you think! Also, thank you to everyone who has read; favorited; and taken a moment to comment my other SEAL Team stories; especially to those of you who I am unable to respond to. Your comments mean everything!


End file.
